Day 195 Writing Short Stories

Lost

The moorland opened around her. There was nothing but the strange landscape with its yellowing fields and the odd twisted tree here and there. No signs of civilization. She wasn’t sure even what century it was or where she was. She had been forced to step out of the current, and here she was, lost in time and space.

She sighed and faced a random direction. There was no point in reason. She had to let her intuition guide her. It was all she had. The current was out of the question. They were after her. As soon as she stepped onto it, they would sniff her out and be on her as they had been. She had barely escaped.

The thought made her clutch her jacket pocket. The wool pressed against her hand, and the object inside was firmly lodged there. She sighed and brushed the hem of her long petrol wool jacket down. Wool was a sensible thing to have. She made sure all her clothes were organic, thick, and heavy, and that she dressed in layers. She was glad of the sentiment here on the frosty morning moor. And she always made sure that her clothes were timeless. She could almost always fit on any timeline.

Now she had to find somewhere to hide. Somewhere to fit until she knew how to get back into the current without them knowing and get the device back to the vault.

Bogeyman

He moaned. The nightly meeting in the church basement was running long. He was here again, using his monthly night off at the meeting designed for bogeymen like himself. It was just that the complaints were always the same. The children didn’t care. They didn’t even see them. The world had gone all wrong. Everyone was glued to their phones and had lost sight of any terror, whimsy, or… reason as the nightmare horror from the bottomless pit with ten thousand teeth had stated.

What was the point of being a bogeyman when no one believed anymore? Even with slight contact, drugs and therapy were assigned, and then nothing. The dull creatures went on, glued to their phones, not seeing, not hearing.

He longed for the good old days when even his presence caused families to flee their homes. But now he could linger there for months before even a single alarm was raised.

It was a bad time they lived in.

Winter Storm

I wanted to write this one, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the story after writing the two other prompts. This is about a hiker stranded on a mountain because of a winter storm. They take shelter in a cave, only to find someone or something else has taken shelter too.

The prompts are from the book A Year of Creative Writing Prompts.

Now, I have to hurry to work. I got up early enough and skipped everything else to write before heading to my before-eight appointment at work. I’m glad I did. I’m feeling a lot better. The therapy light is helping. Writing elevates my mood. It always makes me feel like the day mattered if I got to create something.

Thank you for reading! Have a joyous day ❤